


Don't Blame It On Me (I can do that Myself)

by nana_writes



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: And then this happened, F/M, Hunters of Artemis, I have no idea why i wrote this, Implied Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Sad, angsty, i saw some headcanon, non Blood of Olympus compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:24:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7899748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nana_writes/pseuds/nana_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Major Character died before this story and this is the confrontation between two of the survivors.</p><p>I'm sorry if this is too vague but I don't want to spoil it for you so just read it. It's pretty small</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Blame It On Me (I can do that Myself)

Everybody knows Percy Jackson.

Maybe they don't really know him but they know of him.

They know he is a swimming prodigy, could probably get a scholarship off of it if he would just manage to get his grades straight. They know he has ADHD and anyone who's ever been in his English or History class knows he has an impressive knowledge of Greek and Roman mythology. All girls (&some guys) will agree he is good looking. Emily swears up and down that no one pulls better the "troublemaker with a heart of gold" look than Perseus Jackson. But they also know Percy would never look at them, never even notices them, too focused on the blonde athletic girl that often visits him at the school - his girlfriend.

They know about his weird friends. The one with the crutches and more body hair than it should be possible for a teenager; the buff girl with the red bandanna and the sweet boyfriend; the dark haired, pale faced dark eyed sunken boy; the punk girl with the electric blue eyes and the spiky black hair and a fucking tiara; the huge, simple minded boy with the crooked teeth and an eye colour no one could agree on.

Most of all they know about his disappearance last year, of how his parents were worn thin with no word from him for six months. They saw the desperation in Mr Blowfis' eyes, Percy's stepfather and beloved English teacher at the school, and knew it matched the one on Sally's and on his girlfriend and on Rachel, the only person at school who had seemed to ever really know him.

And when he comes back and re-enrolls for senior year they know something has happened. He seems taller and skinnier, his hair is over grown he shifts more than usual and his eyes never seen to focus on anyone. His old schoolmates have all graduated but the now seniors and juniors still remember the swimming team prodigy that would always stand up for the younger ones and shot hops in the playgrounds whenever he got the chance. That boy is gone and Percy only seams to be there because it's mandatory, because he has to finish high school, because where else would he go.

His friends don't really show up as often as they did and neither does the girlfriend. The black haired, black eyed, pale skinned boy is the one that comes the most, sometimes with another boy who looks exactly like his opposite. And while the second boy usually stays out of ear shot and mostly out of sight, the first never hesitates to locate Percy. They talk in low whispers, even if Percy does little of the talking. Its eery how they seemed to have traded places. Percy is the one who looks haunted now and all his schoolmates give him a wide berth or ignore him entirely.

Their hushed conversations always end up the same way, with Percy pushing past his friend with his head low, tears sometimes shinning in his eyes, and his friend watching him go with sadness scrawled all over his features.

 

It's a shock when the punk girl with the tiara shows up. The now seniors remember her from three years ago and her story is mostly forgotten. The tales never told of the teenage girls with deathly glares that followed her, or how her eyes shown like electricity or... Was that a bow on her shoulder?!

"Perseus Jackson!" she called, her voice booming through the halls, never mind the noise that was already there. Everyone cleared the way for her and her friends and stopped to watch her stamped until she finally turned the corner to where Percy stood.

He turns, shoulders sagging, as if being faced by a murderous teenage girl gang was a daily inconvenience. Or a doctor's appointment that you knew was conning and still found yourself annoyed you had to go. Contrary to what used to happen before his hand doesn't slide into his pocket when he hears his full name, stubbornly standing instead at his side.

"How could you?" she snarls, shoving him. Despite their age and size different he stumbles nonetheless "You were suppose to protect her!!" she pushes him again and once more he falls backwards. His head is still down and he hasn't faced the girl yet. He doesn't seem to want to see the anger and the pain and the sorrow etched all over the fifteen year old's features.

"What? You've got nothing to say for yourself?" the punk girl shoves him one last time, more forcefully this time and it could be a trick of the light but they would all swear sparks fly when she does so.

Percy hits the rows of lockers behind him and is finally forced to look up at his surprise visit. His face is mostly void of emotions but his voice cracks when he says her name and he is tired, he is so goddamned tired.

"Thalia..."

She moves almost faster than the eye can track and is on him in a second, pushing him against the lockers, one of her elbows pressing lightly against his throat while pushing his chin up.

"Don't you Thalia me you piece of shit!! She's dead! Annabeth is dead and it happened on your watch!"

That finally seems to snap him out of it. His expression mirrors her's: the same anger, same grief, same guilt. He barely needs to touch her to shove her away. That only seems to increase Thalia's fury and some of the other girls that had stopped far away enough to give their leader space tense up, hands reaching for their waist. (maybe they carry mace in their pockets) They don't have time to do anything because Percy starts talking right back.

"You think I don't know that!? Think that I don't relive it every fucking night, over and over again?!" his voice is more hoarse than before and there's the strain of barely contained... something in it "I was there when it happened! She died in my arms Thalia"

"She died in my arms" he repeats weakly, looking down at his hands as if he can still see her curls - mated with dirt and blood - framing her lifeless features.

The punk girl - Thalia - raises her fists and bangs them against his chest again and again. There is no real force behind the movement and Percy let's her, eventually raising his hands to grasp her's. She struggles a bit but he ignores her half-hearted efforts and puts his arms around her. Soon she is crying against his chest and so is he.

"She was seven when Luke and I found her..." she whispers "Seven. So small and so brave already"

"The first thing she told me when we were eleven was that I drooled in my sleep..." he laughs but there is no real merry behind it

"You do drool Seaweed Brain" at the nickname a sob rips through Percy and they both lapse into silence, searching for consolation in each other's arms and finding only the smallest of comforts.

Everybody had known something bad had happened but nobody knew just what. And know that they did it didn't really change a thing; there was nothing they could do or say.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not particularly happy with that end but oh well. Also don't hate on me, I'm #PercabethForLife


End file.
